


Redemption in it's purest form

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Neevebrody Fandom Forward Auction, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When was the last time you needed something or someone so badly that you'd do anything to get them back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption in it's purest form

**Author's Note:**

> This is my auction piece for neevebrody's fandom forward and melagan's winning bid fic :)

Driving 'Emanuel' towards the Asylum, Dean keeps replaying the last time he'd been there, and the look of abject terror on his brother's face.

********************************************************************************

_Sam struggles off the bed, stumbles towards Dean and grabs hold of his jacket tight enough to choke him, "You've gotta leave me, I'm...I'm no good to you like this. I can't tell if it's you or **him** anymore. Please...just..."_

_Dean's trying so hard not to scream at Sam, the last thing he needs is to be railed on, but Dean can't believe Sam's asking him to give up. When has he ever given up? Ever just left his baby boy to whatever fate he's brought down on himself, even when he's deserved it._

_This time it isn't even Sam's fault. It's Castiel's._

_Dean grips the back of Sam's neck and brings his face down level with his own, "I can't Sammy, I'm not gonna just walk away!"_

_Sam shakes Dean roughly, shoves him against the nearest wall, bouncing his head off the breeze blocks, "You have to! I'll get you killed. I can't sleep, I can't eat, every time you touch me it's **his** hands I feel. I can smell you, so I know it's you, but I can't see you, can't figure out if I'm talking to you or myself. What happens when I walk into a vamp's nest with 'you' and actually, I'm walking in alone with a figment for back up. Dean I'm a lost cause."_

_Dean runs the pad of his thumb along Sam's chapped and swollen lips, "Please don't ask me to walk away from you. I've never been able to...we've never been able to do that! I don't work without you. I'm more likely to get myself killed without you, even if I have to drag your drooling ass in on a leash. We'll figure something out...we have to!"_

_Sam's fully aware how bad he looks, how awful he smells, what this thing in his head has done to him. He doesn't recognise himself in the mirror anymore. All he really wants is to fall into Dean's arms, but if he allows himself that small measure of comfort, he'll never convince his brother to leave, "No, Dean. I'm a liability. I'm a fucking drooling mess. You wanna know what I'm seeing right now, huh, **do you!** "_

_Dean closes his eyes against the tears forming, "Please, Sammy..."_

_Sam leans his forehead against Dean's and sighs against his lips, "I know it's you in front of me, 'cos I can smell that god awful aftershave you wear, and the day old scent of whiskey isn't something you get off the king of hell, but what I'm seeing is Lucifer, grinning and licking his lips. He's talking with your voice and he's touching me like he knows me, inside and out. I can't do this anymore. I can't handle the not knowing! If I'm here and you're gone, I'll know I'm not shooting you in the heart the next time he's playing with me. **You.Have.To.Leave!** "_

_Dean knows when he's beat, when he can't argue a way round this. When Sam lets him go and slumps to the floor, rocking back and forwards, twisting his hands in his hair and begging for Dean to go, "You've gotta leave, please, please....don't let him win, I need you gone...I can't even touch you anymore...he's everywhere, he's in my head, he knows everything and I can't...Dean please I can't..."_

_It breaks Dean's heart, tiny little unstitch-able pieces._

_He's never been able to just let Sam go. It's gotten them in over their head's so many times before and still Dean doesn't learn._

_But this time, this time he's going to have to walk away, because he has the feeling that sitting and watching Sam destroy himself will just send him straight over the same edge._

_Dean curls himself round Sam, holds him as tight as he can, leans his cheek against Sam's hair and lets the stray tears fall, "Okay, okay baby boy, I'll go, but," he forces Sam's face up, looks him right in the eyes, not knowing if Sam's seeing him or Lucifer, and kisses him, hard, pouring everything he can't say into it, "I'm coming back, I **will** find a way!"_

_Sam lets his arms go limp, his body docile and pliable._

_Dean straightens, takes one more look at his brother, turns and walks away._

_As he closes the door behind him, he hears, "I love you," and his heart breaks all over again at the lost sound in Sam's voice._

_He will find a way!_

*********************************************************************************

And now, now he's got the man, angel, whatever the hell he is, who's responsible for Dean's empty bed and aching heart, sat in the car next to him. He so desperately wants to _want_ to rip his head off, but Castiel isn't Castiel anymore. This thing, this 'healer' is a different creature who has no idea that he's responsible for so much hurt.

All Dean can think about is getting his boy back. These last few weeks have been torture. The amount of times he's thrown himself behind Baby's wheel, gunned her engine and then had to physically haul himself out of her. It's pathetic. He's all over the place, hasn't been able to sleep or eat properly, keeps replaying the last image of Sam sat on that floor, broken and alone.

Even if he could muster up enough hatred to stab Castiel in his double crossing face, he can't risk the only chance he's got of getting Sammy back whole.

Meg's prattling away in the back of the car.

Her he could happily stab in the face. She's constantly trying to screw them and he's not going to let her fuck up his chances of finding a way back to Sam. Not this time.

*********************************************************************************

It's done.

They're done.

Sam is Sam again, and Castiel's taken responsibility for all the things he's ruined, and Dean wants to feel guilty for leaving the angel dribbling and pathetic in some psych ward, but he can't. Not when Sam is sat, soulful and firing on all cylinders, within touching distance.

Sam turns to Dean, sad and guilty look firmly back in place, and despite the fact he knows what Sam's about to say, he wants to crow and shout from the rooftops that he's finally got his boy back.

"We can't leave him there."

Dean scowls and tightens his hands on the wheel, "He did the only thing he could to fix it, Sam. I'm not looking this one in the mouth. I can't."

Sam reaches out, lays a hand on Dean's leg, "But, Meg...she's not, I mean, she's gonna..."

Dean takes a hand from the wheel and grips Sam's fingers so hard Sam thinks he might have to go get them x-rayed, "No! She's not a friend, enemy of my enemy, yeah, I know. But I can't have you going back to...just **no** okay!"

For the first time since he's had all his screws back in the right place, Sam really looks at his brother.

Dean's eyes are bloodshot, faint lack-of-sleep bruises dusting the skin beneath them. Cheeks more hollow than Sam remembers and a jumpiness that Dean hasn't had since he came back from hell all those years ago, and it hits him, right in the face.

This has been just as hard on Dean as it has on him and he's sat here trying to ask Dean to what...send him back, turn him into a crazy again, just to assuage his own guilt.

Sam curls his fingers round Dean's hand and squeezes, "Okay, I'll leave it alone. But, you know this is gonna come back to bite us in the ass, right?"

Dean nods once and lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, "Yeah, I know, cross that bridge though, 'kay?"

*********************************************************************************

Sam's in the shower, the water's been running for half an hour, and Dean's fairly sure there'll be none left for him to use, but he just can't bring himself to care.

The normalcy of wanting to holler at Sam for being a selfish douche with the hot water is better than any amount of cleanliness. 

Sammy's back, Sammy's as big a pain in the arse as ever and Dean can finally breath properly. His lungs haven't expanded right for the last few weeks and he's felt like he's been on the verge of a panic attack constantly. Now though, having Gigantor hogging the hot water, Dean feels elated, like a weight's been lifted off his chest. 

He'll never admit it to him when they aren't in a life or death situation, because Sam's a damn terrible gloater when he thinks he's right, but Dean doesn't function on any level when he can't reach out and take a hold of Sam. 

Out of habit, he's been sleeping in rooms with queen or king size beds, not willing to admit that Sam wasn't there and wouldn't be again. So the room they're in now has a big comfy looking bed made for two, but Dean doesn't know whether that's allowed right now.

Sam's only just out the mental ward, and he's currently trying to scrub the stench of TCP and bleach off his skin, plus Dean's pretty certain Sam's trying to remove all traces of Lucifer from his body aswell. That'd explain the ridiculous amount of time Sam's spent in the shower already.

That or maybe he's just too afraid to come face his brother after everything.

Dean's not above admitting, to himself at least, that he's had to stop himself jumping Sammy several times already, mainly because he's still got the deer in the headlights look and Dean doesn't wanna freak him out any more than necessary.

It's killing him though.

The last time they touched in any way that wasn't simply functional was well over a month ago and Dean's been laying in bed at night lonely and cold and frightened. Having Sam this close and **not** being able to reach out and take, is testing what little will power he possesses.

Finally the water shuts off and Sam emerges, looking slightly less like road kill, towel knotted at his waist, hair hanging in wet curls against the nape of his neck.

Well that's just fucking cruel.

Dean's favourite times have always been when Sam's fresh out of the shower. How he's supposed to keep his hands to himself, Dean has no clue.

Shaking himself, biting down on all the familiar urges, Dean smiles at Sam, "Better? I assume you left me a thimble full of hot water?"

Sam gives him a sheepish smile and sits on the edge of the bed, "Sorry man, I just had to...that place kinda gets under your skin you know. Felt like I'd never be 'clean'."

Dean waves his apology off and stands, "Nah, it's fine, I get it. I'd be using a metal scrubbing brush."

Sam chuckles and lays back against the covers.

God it's good to be out, good to be 'free'. Good to be alone in his head. No more smug fucker trailing fingers through his most private and precious memories.

The memories of him and Dean, good and bad, all being pawed over by a figment that was never averse to using them to torment and torture.

Dean watches Sam, sees when he's finally relaxed. Eyes closed, lines softened by the small smile playing at his lips, and he finds himself reaching out without thinking.

To Sam's credit, he doesn't jump when Dean trails his fingertips along Sam's ribs, nor does he open his eyes when he feels the bed dip. He just shifts over to allow Dean the space and rolls into his brother's side, lifting his head and laying it in Dean's lap.

Dean moves as calmly as possible. Despite the raging need to dig his nails into Sam's shoulders and crawl inside his baby boy's skin, he doesn't wanna spook him. Not when he's this close, close enough for Dean to taste his unique scent in the air, "This okay? I mean, we haven't...not for a while. Only I..."

Sam rolls over enough to look up into Dean's face and takes a deep, cleansing breath, "Kiss me?"

Dean doesn't need asking twice. He's already half hard and imagining Sam spread out beneath him. The nervous lilt in Sam's voice just makes him even more determined to take back what's been lost.

Carding his fingers through Sam's damp hair, Dean shifts back slightly, leans down and claims Sam's lips in a searing kiss. He'd intended to be gentle, to take it slow, but the taste of Sam on his tongue after so long is too much and Dean's self control fly's straight out the window along with any good intentions he may have had.

Nipping at Sam's bottom lip, Dean bites down a little too hard, managing to draw blood. He's about to back off and apologise when Sam's answering moan filters through. There's no fear, no uncertainty, it's all out want.

Dean shoves at Sam's shoulder, wiggles out from underneath him and motions for him to lay full length on the bed.

Sam stares up at Dean through lidded eyes and licks his lips. It's been too long. And even before, before the all out crazy and the rubber room, whenever they'd done this Sam'd needed something Dean wasn't always willing to give.

Pain.

Pain was the only way, in the months leading up to his melt down, that Sam could expel the image of Lucifer whilst he and Dean were together. 

Dean removes his clothes in record time and Sam can't help the chuckle, "Easy tiger, any one would think you were horny."

Dean growls, fixes Sam with a look that has his cock twitching, and climbs on the bed, "Look, I know this is...we haven't, but Sammy...So help me boy if you ever remind me of this, I'll stick itching powder in your shorts again, but I've missed you. I've missed you since before you ended up in that scary shit hole."

Dean crawls up Sam's body, leaning up on his hands, looking down at him with as much honesty and intensity as he can stand to show, "Lucifer took what we had and he twisted it. He may not have been real, but he managed to steal the one thing in my crap life that gave me some kind of solace. And then I had to leave you in that place. That god awful place, and my heart nearly...So yes, Sam, I'm a little eager. Don't be so bloody smug about it!"

Managing, as always, to fight his way past all of Dean's bullshit, Sam lays a hand against his brother's cheek, pulls his face down and runs his tongue along Dean's top lip, "I love you too, De."

Leaning back on his haunches, straddling Sam's legs, Dean laces their fingers together and pushes Sam's arms above his head, "Do you still need...You still want me to..."

Sam shakes his head once, smiles and winks, "It's all me in here. No one else."

Dean's answering smile is mega watt bright, Sam thinks he could power the room's lights off it for a week it's so dazzling.

Dean takes his time, re-learning Sam's body. Fingers against flesh dragging amazing sounds from the man beneath him. 

"Oh god, Dean, I need.."

Dean knows what Sam needs, has always known, and when he's old and grey and can no longer muster the energy to do, he will still be able to trace the lines of Sam's skin with his mind.

Dean ignores his own rock hard and weeping cock jumping against his belly and concentrates on turning Sam into a gibbering wreck.

Lapping at the crease between Sam's inner thigh and his groin, Dean grips his brother's hips, stops him from arching away from the too tender touch.

Sam can feel Dean's nails scraping grooves into his skin and it's almost unbearable. The gentleness of Dean's tongue on him, not quite where he needs it to be, but Sam knows, in some far off cognitive part of his brain, that Dean needs this. Needs to take Sam apart piece by piece.

Sam wraps his legs round Dean's shoulders, opens himself up as much as he can, grinds his hips, making it blatantly obvious what he wants.

Dean laughs against Sam's skin, sucks on his inner thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

Sam's holding onto the metal bars of the headboard to stop himself from flipping them over and taking what he needs. His knuckles are white and he can't breath properly, panting and whining. Not quite begging, not yet.

Reaching over the edge of the bed, scrabbling around for the lube he knows is there, Dean never takes his mouth away from Sam. Trailing kisses up his body; stomach, ribs, nipples, neck, until he's face to face with the only person who knows what Dean truly looks like when he looses that hard earned control, "What do you want? What do you need, Sammy?"

Sam tightens his grip on the headboard and arches into Dean, "You!"

Hooking Sam's legs over his shoulders, Dean bends forward far enough to press Sam's knees to his chest, "Want to see you, please."

Sam wills his body to relax, waits for Dean to fumble the lid from the tube in his hands.

The first touch of calloused fingers and cold lube against his puckered hole makes Sam snap up and into Dean so hard that he thinks he may throw them both off the bed, "Nrghh, **Dean** "

Sam closes his eyes, concentrates on Dean's talented fingers working him, opening him, readying him.

"Open your eyes Sammy, need to see you!"

Sam forces his eyes open, and the look on Dean's face takes his breath away. There's no false bravado, no smirking smugness, just Dean, begging Sam with his eyes to give him this, to let him reclaim what's his.

"Please..Dean, please," Sam grinds himself into Dean's hand, onto the fingers undoing him from the inside, "Have to, want you, now!"

Dean finds the sweet spot inside that has Sam writhing and begging beneath him and finally takes pity, on Sam and himself. Withdrawing his hand, Dean guides his cock to Sam's opening and slowly, excruciatingly slowly, works himself inside.

The tip of Dean's cock is past that tight ring of muscle and he refuses to allow Sam to speed this up. Ignoring the violent thrusts and maddening noises coming from his brother, Dean takes his sweet time. Gentle thrusts, a slow rhythm that has Sam keening and Dean's vision blurring.

Dean's not gonna fuck and roll off, not this time. He wants to feel Sam fall to pieces around him, and if that means taking it slow and torturing his baby brother, then that's what he'll do, "Slow...down...Sam!"

Sam's in some new and improved kind of hell, he must be because Dean's buried balls deep, thighs butting up against Sam's ass, and Dean's refusing to move, "Please...I..."

Dean growls and bites down on Sam's exposed throat, "No!"

Dean pushes and pushes and pushes, until Sam thinks he'll white out. The burn comes on fast and Sam can feel his own orgasm building behind his eyelids. 

Snaking a hand between their bodies, Dean wraps his whole hand round Sam's straining cock, "You first baby boy." 

Sam hasn't taken his eyes from Dean's face, knowing that his big brother needs to see what he's capable of, what he and **only** he can do to Sam. 

Running the tip of a nail along Sam's weeping slit, Dean grits his teeth and braces himself against Sam's ass, knowing it won't be long until Sam's crying out and spilling himself over Dean's fist, "Come on Sammy, let me feel it. Need to feel it."

Sam's lungs constrict, his heart thumps in his chest and his balls tighten before he's calling out and baring down on Dean, "God, _Dean_ , **fuck!** "

Dean feels Sam tighten round him, feels Sam's body jerk and twitch and he's right there with him, pounding into him, emptying himself.

Panting, spent and sweaty, Dean slumps sideways, dragging Sam against his chest, "Jesus, that was..."

Sam doesn't have the energy to open his mouth, just nods against Dean.

Dean runs his fingers through Sam's hair, tucking a strand behind his ear and drops a kiss on the top of his head, "Missed you."

Sam hauls the covers up over them, splays his fingers against Dean's stomach and lets sleep overtake him, "M'ss'd y'too De."


End file.
